Blackout: The 300th Annual Hunger Games
by DragonoftheStars1429
Summary: "On the 300th Games, in reminder that the rebels caused punishment for future generations, all tributes will be of age 12 to 16." The Hunger Games are a punishment, one centuries long. When all twenty four tributes step in the arena, all are ready to fight for the prestigious title of victor. But only one emerges. And even they can never forget... (SYOT CLOSED: 24/24 alive)
1. Prologue

**Prologue: From the 11th Quarter Quell/275th Hunger Games**

The girl from District 3 was the first to go last time. The little, 12 year old girl with curly hair and bright blue eyes.

The one who her mother had kissed on the cheek when she was saying goodbye, knowing that it would be the last time. The one who the careers had called a 'whimpering fool'. And it turned out that she wasn't pretending. She couldn't get a score higher than her 4 if she tried.

The girl who couldn't throw a knife, shoot a bow, or use a sword. Her interview went well, but her survival fell downhill from there.

If she had gotten to that bag (which she was certain contained enough to let her live a few days), she could have had a better shot at winning. If she was a faster runner️. Maybe, if she had been reaped at age 17 or 18, she would have had a fighting chance. Unfortunately, that never was.

Some say it was her suicide, that she knew she couldn't make it. But as she saw the career's knife sailing towards her, all she hoped for was a quick death.

After the Gamemakers extracted DNA for tests, she was cleaned up and shipped back home. Her family were in uncontrollable sobs at the sight of her, their sweet Gadget (as was her name) dead before her time. She was honored in the tributes' graveyard, and her family wreathed her grave in flowers to remember a life taken away from them, so callously, at such young age. They even planted roses around her grave, and in time they grew throughout the graveyard, honoring not just the girl but all of the fallen. Her family were given a small sum of money, and tried to go on as usual. But they would never forget.

_Here lies Gadget Wellgaze. _

_March 30th, 263 ADD—June 29th, 275 ADD_

_24th place in the 275th Games_

_"The good die young"_

* * *

And the boy from One was the last to die. In those Games, at least. It was the two last Careers, battling it out after they teamed up to get the girl from Six. They ended their alliance, and the fight commenced.

Nearly six hours after it started, the fight ended when One was caught off his guard. The axe that Four had thrown landed on top of his head, smashing his skull. One crumpled to the ground, and Four emerged victorious.

The citizens of District One were seething because of the death of their near-champion. The district were struggling at that moment, because of a few rebellious citizens, and a champion would have helped them, showering them with gifts of luscious food and rare valuables, and other gifts. He was chosen from the Academy for this reason; a deadly killing machine that would guarantee victory. He truly believed he would win, getting an 11 in training (surprisingly, the victor of the Quell only received an eight), and accumulating a stunning seven kills. Even the other career districts were sure he would win, and he won the sponsors over with his determination to do whatever to win. He was a true champion.

Soon, he was forgotten in the struggles of life in their district. As requirements only increased and increased, District One kept losing and losing, until Might Greene won the title of victor, five years after. During his post-Games, interview, he started that "I took my tactics from Champion Brightpath, the near-victor of the most recent Quarter Quell. He really inspired me." So, as Might was a hero️, Champ took some of the fame, too.

_Here lies Champion ("Champ") Brightpath_

_December 14th, 257 ADD—July 13th, 275 ADD_

_2nd place in the 275th Games_

_A loving son and brother_

* * *

The Four boy, although crowned victor, knew what was coming. His mentor, Aquarius, had warned him about life as a victor. About how he, years later, had nightmares about screaming children, eyes rolling back into their heads. Which meant that as soon as he entered the arena, he wouldn't come back. Whether that was 'at all' or 'as yourself', time would tell.

He survived, but his mentor was right. There was no forgetting the terrible memories of the arena. He was forced to mentor children, to watch them die as the poor children from his Games had. It was terrible. He would have been better dead.

_Posideon Gillsman_

_Victor—275th Annual Hunger Games_

* * *

**Well, I hope you enjoyed! I have a few rules for the SYOT, but please submit your characters! Also, as the Quell twist says, characters must be 12-16.**

**•PM submissions only (sorry guests!)**

**•Four tributes per person**

**•If you're making a tribute that you want to win, you have to make another that will die in the bloodbath. If this means too many bloodbath deaths, then I'll move it**

**•For everyone who wants their tribute to be a victor: I will pick one tribute for the role. The second closest will get 2nd place, unless someone else specifically requests 2nd. Then the second closest will get 3rd. **

**•Title your PM as: District Gender, Name. Ex. 12F, Katniss Everdeen **

**•Try to be realistic**

**•Spots are on a first come, first serve basis. You can reserve two spots for two days**

**The spots will be on my profile. **

**Form—**

**Name:**

**Age:**

**Gender:**

**District:**

**Appearance (detailed):**

**Personality (detailed):**

**Backstory (detailed):**

**Family friends: **

**Strengths (up to 3, 4 for careers):**

**Weaknesses (3 min.):**

**Suggested training score:**

**Bloodbath strategy:**

**Games strategy:**

**What they will work on in training center:**

**Will they make any alliances:**

**Any romances (in and out of arena):**

**Chariot outfit (both genders; I will choose which outfit I like more):**

**Interview outfit:**

**Interview technique:**

**Preferred placement death:**

**Other:**

**Thanks, **

**Dragon**


	2. District 1 reapings

**1F: Lazuli Douglas (12)**

**Pre-Reaping**

"Laz, c'mon! Tanzanite's here!" my brother, Lian, shouts out the door. He turns to the stairs. "You two, Silver! Today's a day for family, not studying!"

I pause from where I've been juggling a soccer ball. I'm quite good at it, if I do say so myself, and after quite a few years of practice I've grown to be great at soccer. It's my favorite sport. I love when I get to go to the soccer field after school on Tuesdays and take part in my league playing that I do. It's such a skillful sport, and even without the hundreds of rules, it's hard enough to play. I've considered teaching Sunstone and Dez to play. Sunstone seems more enthusiastic about it than Dez, though. I pick up the white ball and drop it on my foot. _Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot-_

"Laz! You coming?" my father demands. Sighing, I oblige. I pick up the ball and head in the door, where Tanzanite, our older brother, is sitting at the table. He's eating a pancake and is deep in conversation with Lapis, my twin brother. They're talking about the reaping, which isn't that surprising. It's reaping morning, after all. And, just as I guessed, they're debating the problem with District One this year. What is this problem? That District One will be the laughingstock of the career districts. I don't know about the other career districts, but District One picks the next year's volunteers _months _before the actual reaping. Before the Quell's announced, which in my opinion is foolish, but what can I do about it? And whilst our originally chosen male tribute, Cassian Diamondback, was already only sixteen years old, our female, Diamond Cloth, was eighteen. The Academy tried to find a replacement sixteen year old, but for some strange reason failed. And now we have no female volunteer.

Whoever was drawn would have to compete in the Hunger Games. All of District One hopes that it's a sixteen year old, so that they can bring honor to District One. In honesty, myself, I don't want to go in the Games. Not now, not later. The concept is terrifying, and even though there are a lot of perks to being a victor, I'd probably die. And I'd rather life a long life where I have to work than be dead before I could. Fortunately, I don't have to live in constant fear. Who wants to, anyways? But this year's the only year I'd ever be threatened, and with maybe just less than ten thousand children where I only have one entry, the odds are _definitely_ in my favor. I'm sure Lapis is kind of upset that he doesn't have the chance to be reaped into the Games, although if he's Games driven there's a good chance he might one day have the chance to volunteer.

"Morning, Zuli," my dad remarks, using the affectionate nickname only he uses. "You're finally up."

I smile. "Yep. I was practicing for the soccer game in two weeks' time. You know, the important one." Turning to Tanzanite, I greet him. "Hey. How's it going?"

"Good," he replies. "Lapis and I were discussing the girls' reaping problem. Shame the academy couldn't do something about it."

_I heard you, _I want to remark. But instead, I nod, and say, "Yeah. You could've volunteered if it wasn't for the Quell." _And I would hate that. _But I keep that to myself, instead talking about the Games the same way a normal One would.

He shrugs. "Yeah, but I have Pandora and Aelia to take care of. I couldn't bear to leave them, even if it meant we earned everything in it for the winner." That's one of the things I like about Tanzanite. He cares about his family more than anything.

I sit down, just as my mother places another tray of pancakes onto the table. I grab three with the serving fork, and drizzle maple syrup on top of them from a small, beautifully crafted, clay pot. As I cut them and bite into them, my eyes scan around the table at my brothers. Honestly, having five brothers is such a pain. Even though two don't live in the same house as me anymore, whenever Tanzanite or Pyrite come over (which rarely happens, as Pyrite never visits and Tanzanite has a family to take care of), they're all so different and they rely on me so much for everything. Like now.

"Laz, can you get me the second book in this series? I've just finished the first," Lian asks. He's the least annoying of my brothers, but that's mainly because he always is buried in a book. I recently lent him one of my books, and now he wants the rest of the series.

I sigh. "Fine, Lian."

I quickly run up the stairs and snatch the book he wants from the shelf. It takes a few seconds to find, but I don't have much trouble locating it. "Thanks," he mumbles after I finish sliding down the banister (a favorite way of getting down of mine). I toss it to him and he gasps as he catches it. "Laz! That's no way to treat a book!" he scolds.

_I'll leave it up to you to treat a book correctly,_ I remark to myself, rolling my eyes. Lian must have every book he reads in perfect condition when he opens it and perfect condition when he closes it. I personally don't care, and although reading isn't my favorite hobby like Lian, I enjoy it when I'm not at sports practice or with Dez and Sunstone. Although it can in no way compete with Lian's part of his room, which is covered all over in bookshelves, my parents had a shelf installed in my part of the room I share with Lapis. The bookstore has a place where they sell books that are so battered or worn-up that nobody will buy them full-price, and I usually find bargain prices there for books that aren't even that worn up.

Sitting down in my chair again, I skewer another bit of pancake with my fork, glad for some peace and quiet to eat, finally. But no. My brother (another one of them, anyways), Silver, puts a deck of index cards paperclipped together in front of my place setting. "Test me," he demands.

"Silver, can't you get someone else to test you? And can't it wait?" I ask, exasperated.

He glares at me like I've murdered someone. "No, it _can't _wait! I have a test tomorrow, about the diseases and medical issues that happen in the Games, and _I can't fail!_"

"Alright, alright!" I pull out the first card. "Name a symptom of infection."

"Easy. Redness and swelling of the wound."

"How do you treat that infection?" _Get a sponsor to help you. Or at least, that's what I'd do._

"Try to drain out the pus and clean the wound. Check if the patient has a fever, and try to cool them if they do. Try to get medicine on the wound. If you have some on hand, use it instantly. If not, there are various herbs that will help draw out infection..." We go on like this for about half an hour, me trying to stuff bites of breakfast in my mouth between questions. Finally, once he answers the last question, I put the cards down on the table.

"That's it. I think your good for your test."

My mother, who had gone up to her room to get ready for the reaping, comes down. "You two need to get ready now," she advises. And it's true. I'm still in the clothes I slept in, and the reaping's at 9:30, in half an hour. But the problem is, I have to look reaping age now that I _am _reaping age. All the reaping clothes I have are too small for me. And I don't have anything because, quite honestly, I hate shopping. Lapis is already dressed, in a white shirt and dark blue pants that used to be Silver's. Tanzanite's left, as he needed to go back to his home and his family. Too bad I don't have anything hand-me-down because whilst that's annoying, at least I'd have something to wear.

I know someone who does, though.

After grabbing a spring-green dress that's two sizes too small for me, I rush out the door and run the block to get to Dez's house. It's an exhausting run, but I make it there in two minutes. When I knock, it's Sunstone, my other friend, who opens the door. She's dressed in a bright yellow dress, probably once her mother's. Dez is there a few seconds later, wearing a knee-length dark emerald dress that compliments her light brown hair (which is practically non-existent here in One) for her reaping outfit.

"Well, you're late. What's the dress for?" asks Dez.

"It's the one that Giana wanted," I reply. Giana, Dez's younger sister, saw me wearing this dress when I was her age (nine), and has wanted it ever since. "I need a reaping outfit, and I thought I'd come here, since you're the expert on clothes."

Dez gives a small laugh. "I knew you would. Come inside, though, I have a few clothes that'll look nice on you." She leads me up the stairs, and shouts out on the landing, "Giana! Laz has the dress you wanted!" Giana comes out in an orange dress and I offer her the dress. She accepts it gratefully with a thank-you, and then we come to Dez's room. Sunstone and I sit on the bed and make small talk as Dez rummages through her closet, then pulling out three dresses. The first is pale pink, made with so many frills and ruffles. The second is raspberry colored, and the third is blue. They're both the same but in different colors.

"Definitely _not _that one," I say, pointing to the pink. "Gosh, that looks _absolutely hideous. _How do you think something that that could ever look nice?"

Dez makes a fake sad face. "It's all the trend in the Capitol!"

I burst out laughing. "Since when has anything that's 'all the trend' in the _Capitol _ever been good-looking?" Sunstone points out, which makes me laugh even harder.

I try to compose myself. "So put the pink one back and...hmm, I think I like the blue one better. Now, sorry, but I have to get back to my house."

"We'll come with, then!" announces Dez. She stuffs the two dresses back in her closet, and the three of us run to my house. With only ten minutes left, they both bid farewell to Dez's parents and Giana, before sprinting to my house. I quickly change into the dress before letting them in my bedroom, where we chat for a while.

"Did you hear that..." Dez keeps saying. She loves to gossip, and today's no different. "I wonder who's going to be reaped today," she muses at one point. "Wouldn't it be amazing if it was one of us! I'd volunteer if the Academy hadn't instructed us not to!"

"Yeah, except it won't be one of us. This'll be a time where one of the kids who have to take out tesserae will be in the Reaping," Sunstone pointed out. After that, the conversation drifted elsewhere. After about five minutes, my dad came up. "Time to go, Zuli. And you guys, too." So we follow him out the door, and go with the rest of my family to the reaping.

* * *

**1M: Cassian Diamondback (16)**

**Pre-Reaping**

**(Warning: This part of the chapter contains blood and gore (to training dummies, not actual people, but I still thought I'd put the warning in just in case. Skip to Lazuli's reaping PoV if you don't want to read it.))**

Usually, people take this day to rest. But not me. _I _train. Always. Every single day of my life. Ever since I've been five, I my life has been practically one big training session. Our Academy, located behind the Justice Building, is such a grand place, and as usual, I wake up at 5:00 am to train.

I sign in on the sleek tablet at the Academy. _Name: Cassian Diamondback Age: 16 Date of Birth: 25th March Training program: Gymnasium Seven. _Excellent. Gym 7 is the ultimate combat gym. It's where everyone in District One wants to go. Rarely anyone makes it there. But I will.

I marvel, as I always do, at the beauty of the Academy. In Gym 1, people are taking their first lessons with a sword, or a spear, or a bow. Gym 2 is tactics for the Games. Gym 3 and 4 are the more advanced, Gym 5 is where most of my peers are now. Gym 6 is for 17 and 18 year olds. Gym 7 is for the special ones, like ones who are going to the Games, most of the time.

After dumping all my stuff in the locker room located just outside, I type the key into the lock: 7829. It's the first name of our latest victor, Ruby, in number-letter code, as we call it. Usually, there are two people working here, and a divider splits them. But as it's only me, I get the whole gym to myself. And the walls are soundproof, so there are no interruptions.

My personal trainer, Margot, is already there. "Hello, Cassian," she says. "This morning, we'll be talking about your strategy for the Games, particularly pre-Games. I have two pieces of advice for you. Number One, _always _stay with the Careers. Number Two, find your place in the pack. You have to be a leader. No point in following.

"Now, we want to really impress the Gamemakers. Show them they're not to underestimate you. So, you need to use the tools given. The dummies in this room are designed like real humans. And they'll be used at the Training Center, too. First, you're going to try a particular favorite of mine. It may look like your average cloth dummy, but it has a liquid inside of it designed like blood. It shows every single mark. Here, use this."

She hand me a lethal-looking sword. It's iron and is so sharp that the slightest amount of pressure would burst all seven layers of a human's skin. I internally groan. Every weapon is great, but I really don't like short range weapons.

"I want that dummy to be soaked red by the end. You have exactly thirty seconds. Three, two, one, go!"

I start off by jabbing my sword into the dummy's chest. I hear a sickening crunch, probably wood, which leads me to think that this dummy has 'organs' and 'bones'. I pull the sword out and deliver two similar blows, just bringing the flat side of the sword down hard on the dummy's head and shoulder. I slice the body in many places using the tip of the sword, and thick scarlet liquid drenches my arm. From years of training with Margot and watching prior Games, I know that it's not enough to kill. Oh no, you need to make the most violent kills possible. And I do just that. By the time I'm finished, the dummy's in ribbons and I wouldn't be surprised if the floor's permanently stained. I face Margot, a triumphant smile on my face.

"Not bad, although it could use a little work. Come here, we'll work on your strengths and weaknesses."

We spend the next hour rewatching the clip of what I did, refining my technique, and making about five different variants. This is what I'm going to show the Gamemakers. Margot's planning on me doing three minutes of swordfighting first. Apparently, I have to use this kind of training dummy. Then, I'll have two minutes of showing survival skills. "They're not to be ignored," comments Margot. The next five minutes will be my knife throwing skills, and then, finally, my area of expertise—hand-to-hand combat. We spend the whole rest of the morning practicing. I smash the skull of dummy after dummy. _Watch out, other tributes. I'm ready for you. _Finally, after three hours of training, Margot dismisses me, giving me one final piece of advice: "Make sure to look presentable at the reaping. A good first impression will work miracles."

"Hey Margot, can I ask you a question?"

"What is it?" she asks.

"Who will you train now? I mean, there won't be any need for me to be trained anymore," I point out.

She shrugs. "Whoever the Academy assigns me, probably. I like the look of that Douglas boy, though. Lapis. He shows promise."

"Mmm. Well, thank you for all the years of training."

"You're welcome." And with our farewells said, I turn away, and head out of Gym 7. I grab my stuff from the locker room and walk down the hallway towards the exit. Many students are leaving, as it's reaping time soon. At the front desk, I line up to sign out, and the line progresses relatively quickly. Finally, I'm permitted to go, and I step outside, relieved by the cool air. Just outside the door my best friends, twins Colt and Kellie Gemstone, greet me.

Colt and I are virtually the same in personalities, but we have different looks. Colt has the typical blond hair blue eyes look of almost every citizen, whilst I have the incredibly rare brown hair and brown eyes. Kellie's also a walking stereotype, with wavy blond hair and bright blue eyes. She's not ditzy or sexy like most District One girls, though. I've known both of them for ten years. We're in the same classes at school, and at the training center (well, we were before I was chosen for a personal trainer and special classes).

"Hey, Cassian! How was training?" asks Colt.

"We thought you would be staying behind later," Kellie says. "You know, 'cause you're the representative."

"Training was good. Margot said that I didn't need too much training, but we went through the plan of what I would show the Gamemakers for my private session."

"Well, it sounds like you could bring District One its 65th victory!" remarks Colt.

"I would guess so too. Well, we better get going. There's a reaping in fifteen minutes, and you definitely don't look ready," Kellie reminds me. Both of them are already in their reaping clothes.

We then leave to my house. Both of the Gemstones wait outside as I unpack my bag and then dress myself in the nicest clothes I have. I grab an energy bar out of my bag, and try to eat it as quickly as possible. My mom greets me in the kitchen. She's an amazing mother. My dad died when I was five, and ever since she's been taking care of me herself. She got a job in a jewelry-making factory, and is busy most of the time. She offers me more food, and I accept her offer of warm, just-toasted toast with butter. Butter. Even though my mom has a decent job, it's not the most well payed for. We rarely get butter except on rare occasions. Such as today.

I wolf down three slices before my mom laughs, suggesting that that's enough. I grab a fourth slice and savor it as my mom tells me that it's time to go to the reaping. Colt and Kellie are still there, and so are their parents. My mom chats with Mrs. and Mr. Gemstone as Colt, Kellie, and I talk about the dilemma of this year's female tribute.

"I would love to be reaped! That would be so cool!" Kellie exclaims.

"No offense Kellie, but I'd rather it wasn't you. I don't want to end up killing my friend," I respond.

"True. None taken. There'll be other years and maybe... _maybe_ Colt can volunteer next year and I'll volunteer the year after that one! Then we'll all be victors!"

I don't mention that this will likely never happen. "Wouldn't that be something," Colt responds. But nevermind. One day _I'll_ be the victor, and they'll likely not.

At the town square, we form lines. I'm in the A-F line in order of last name. Colt and Kellie are in the G-L line. The Peacekeeper, a short woman with bright red hair, asks for my name and uses some sort of metal contraption to collect a smear of my blood and place my finger on a piece of paper reading _Diamondback, Cassian_. It shows all five of my signing-ins before this one, and two more empty slots I'll never have to use. It's very orderly, as well. I'm then herded into a roped-off area where all sixteen year old males are. Colt's there too. Kellie's in a similar area, but for girls. And then the reaping starts.

* * *

**1F: Lazuli Douglas (12)**

**Reaping**

The reaping is probably my least favorite part of the year. Even worse than when soccer practice ends. Even worse than the start of school. And it's even worse now that I'm eligible. I know that we always have volunteers, but not this year.

And that's terrifying.

_Calm down, Lazuli. There's nothing to worry about. You're one in hundreds. Maybe even thousands. You won't get picked. _

Our escort walks on stage. Well, _bounces_ would be a more appropriate word. She has bright green, curly hair. And green lipstick. And her _body _is_ dyed green_. Hideous. It's enough to make someone hate green for the rest of their life. Which I have done.

"Hello everyone!" she says with an excited squeak. "Are we ready for the reaping?" Most people applaud loudly, but there aren't any whoops or cheers. "That's good to hear! Now, let's get the boring part done so we can choose two lucky children to compete! Mayor Upridge, if you please?"

Our mayor comes onstage and begins reading the Treaty of the Treason. It's boring—I actually have to agree with our escort on that—and I zone out for most of it. "And because of that, every year, one boy and one girl will be chosen to compete in the Hunger Games."

"Well read, Mayor! Now, let's pick our tributes! Ladies first!" She scuttles over to the girl's reaping bowl. Her hand digs in the bowl before she picks up a slip at the bottom. She unfolds it, clears her voice, then reads out the name. "Lazuli Douglas."

Dez gives an excited squeak and pushes me forwards. "Go!" My feet start to walk out to the stage, all the while my mind is thinking _what? What did she say?_ I reimagine her lips reading out a name. My name.

Well, if that isn't ironic. The only girl in District One who doesn't want to be in the Hunger Games, is the one in it. And literally, I mean it. Almost every single one of them has their face buried in their hands, sobbing. _What are the odds, eh? _

"Well, Lazuli, hello! And congratulations! How are you feeling about the weeks to come?"

I force myself to lie. "I'm really excited. I'm glad to be here."

"And what are you most excited for in the Capitol?" is her second question.

"The life of luxury."

"My, that's a beautiful dress. And it matches your name!"

"Thank you. It belongs to my friend Dez, Desiree Dunn. But I prefer to be known for my actions rather than looks." Because my mother always says it's nice to compliment others after they compliment you, I add, "You're looking very, uh, green today," which earns a few snickers from the audience. Score.

"Of course you do," she says as if it's obvious. "And thank you. Green is my _favorite_ color!" _Well, duh._ It goes on like this for about five minutes, before Green Lady decides to finally move on. "Now, enough chitchat! Let's move on to a boy tribute!"

Why is this lady so annoying? Why is she talking like it's my fault she asks me all these questions. If it was my choice, I'd replace all the escorts with people to do the job properly. But it's not, and all I can do is wait there as she picks a male tribute, who Cassian's going to volunteer for.

* * *

**1M: Cassian Diamondback (16)**

**Reaping**

Lazuli takes her place onstage, and it's only until after our escort walks to the boys' bowl that I recognize her. She's the twin sister of Lapis Douglas, the one who Margot said she wanted to train.

"Our male tribute is Gerro Falcon!"

The boy walks to the stage confidently. He knows he won't be put in the Games. He has nothing to worry about. Gerro's my neighbor, actually, and fifteen years old. We don't see each other much because I'm usually at academy training and he's homeschooled. He's something of a genius, really. Gerro sports the District One look of blond hair and blue eyes. I look back to the girl. She's a blonde as well, but her hair is cut into a pixie cut.

I think about how annoyed the Capitol will be when they see their classic pair has been replaced by us. A girl with short, straight hair rather than long and curly. A boy with brown hair and eyes. What a pair we are, looks-wise. Not one but two outliers in looks.

"Are you excited—what is it?" The escort loses her bright tone at my raised hand. She says the words in a short and snappy manner.

"I volunteer."

"You have to wait for me to-" I cut her off. As soon as I said those two words, I had started going up the stage. She scowls. "Oh, _fine_. What's your name?"

"Cassian Diamondback. Sixteen years old."

"And Cassian, how excited are you? What made you volunteer? Do you know this young boy?" She gestures to Gerro on the last question.

"Why do you care? This is stupid. Just finish the reaping, won't you?"

"Cassian, please—fine," she says, recognizing defeat. "Ladies and gentlemen, the tributes of District One!"

* * *

**Lazuli Douglas (12)**

**Post-Reaping**

The room in the Justice Building is small, but incredibly comfortable. The wood is polished, and there are rich fabrics covering most surfaces of the room. _I am a tribute in the Hunger Games. _It seems so odd, and now I know the terror non-career districts feel when reaping comes along. I try to breathe, knowing that I cannot cry.

My family comes in first. Even Pyrite. They all enfold me in a giant hug. Then each of them says goodbye individually.

My dad first. "Zuli, we all love you so much and we're so proud of this opportunity. Take care."

Second, my mom. "Try to join the rest of the careers, but be careful. Betrayal is common in the career pack. Also, you might want this." She holds out a small hexagon of fabric. Strange, it might seem, but this was my first soccer ball. Or what's left of it. "Use it as your token. Love you."

Lapis. "Laz, this is awesome! Win it for me, okay? And then we'll both be victors someday."

I nod in return. "Okay."

"Be careful, okay? I believe in you. You can do it," Lian says when it's his turn.

Silver next. "Remember all the medical information I tested you on this morning. Don't forget how to treat infection. It can be life saving."

"Just know that we're all cheering for you, okay?" Tanzanite asks. "Don't lose hope in yourself. Love you."

And finally. Pyrite. The one who hasn't talked to the family in an entire year. He kneels down and looks me in the eye. "Do what I failed to, okay? Make us proud. You can do this."

I smile. "If I win, you can get ten percent of my winnings. To the victor that never was."

"Thank you. I don't need money, though. I need you to come home. To show that the Douglas family isn't completely hopeless after all."

"Okay." It's time for them to go now. A Peacekeeper comes in. "I love you guys!" I shout. And then they're gone. Probably forever.

Dez and Sunstone are next. "Oh my gosh, the _Hunger Games!_" Dez squeals. "Keep the dress. I mean, how lucky are you? And... I mean, the Hunger Games! You're going to be a tribute!"

"Come on, Laz. You're going to win. I just feel it," is what Sunstone says. We sit together for the allotted amount of time, talking. Well, Sunstone and I talk. Dez mainly just goes on about how lucky I am. Not that I _feel_ lucky.

Ten minutes later, the Peacekeeper comes in. Sunstone has to literally pull Dez out, who's still rambling. "The Hunger Games! Lucky you! The _Hunger Games!_"

Then, another Peacekeeper comes and leads me outside, where news reporters are flashing their cameras around. They lead me into a luxury train compartment, and I start the ride to the Capitol.

* * *

**Cassian Diamondback (16)**

**Post-Reaping**

My mom is the first one to come in. She's crying, but I'm pretty sure they're what she calls 'tears of happiness'. "I'm so proud of you... everything you've done leads up to this. Make me proud. Make the district proud. I have absolute confidence that you can win." Then, she runs through everything I need to remember. Stay loyal to the careers. Backstabbers tend to get backstabbed later on. Don't get too savage, but make your kills a show. Get everyone you can in your alliance. Show everyone, even the other careers, that you're someone to be reckoned with. And don't die.

When her ten minutes is up, Colt and Kellie are next. Before speaking anything, Colt opens his hand. "Your token." It's a small red die. A bit odd, I know, but it's not a weapon. If anyone knew my real plan with it, though...

"When you get back, I'll be the first person wanting your autograph," Colt demands.

I laugh. "You can have it now. I just don't have a pen or paper."

"Once you win, Colt and I will be next! Then we'll all be victors!" exclaimed Kellie. "But seriously, though, be careful in the arena. I'm sure you could get an eleven if you tried, but don't. You'll be a clear target if you do."

"Okay, got that. Anything else?"

"No, just show everyone else who's boss. And we can't wait to see you in about a month's time," Colt responds.

"Sure thing." They leave, and I have one more guest. Margot.

"Thank you for all these years of training," I say after a few minutes of silence.

"You're welcome. Make me proud, okay?"

I nod. "I will. Any final advice?"

"Remember what we went through this morning. Keep your hand-to-hand skills to yourself until the private session. Keep them to yourself. Don't let the others know your secret weapon, to say. Be a strong leader. And follow your mentor's instructions at all times. Likely you'll have Ruby."

"She's a good one," I comment, satisfied. If Ruby's my mentor, the others won't stand a chance.

"Yes, she is. Good luck in the Games, Cassian."

And then everyone's gone. And I'm on my way to the Capitol.

* * *

**There's the first chapter done! Thanks to Professor R.J Lupin1 for Lazuli and Nautics for Cassian! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Feedback is very much appreciated, so it would be helpful if you reviewed. Character spots are still open, too, so please send in your characters! I've made a forum for sponsorship (link on my profile) where you can see how many points you have and you can sponsor tributes. Not now, though, sponsorship starts after the bloodbath. **

**I'm going to do a quiz so that you guys can get sponsor points. There are four questions, and if you get 2+ correct you get 1 point; all 4 is 2 points. Please do not cheat by re-reading the chapter. **

**1\. What is Tanzanite's wife's and daughter's names?**

**2\. How does Laz like to get down the stairs?**

**3\. What was the code to get into Gym 7? **

**4\. Why was this code what it is? (what did it stand for?)**

**That's all! I'll be doing a mini quiz every chapter for the reapings. Thanks for reading my story, I really appreciate it!**

**~Dragon**


	3. District 2 reapings

**Warning: I rushed to get this chapter out; it's not proofread. Sorry for any grammar mistakes. **

**Silena Sinclair (16)**

**Pre-Reapings**

When I wake up, I check the clock; its luminescent hands glowing although there's no need for them to. It's day out, anyways. Sunlight streams through the windows, enough to make out the number 8:30.

Dammit. The reaping's at 11:30. Only three hours.

Quickly, I throw off the covers and rush down the hallway, still in my dirty clothes from yesterday. A cold bowl of oatmeal is on the table. _Really, dad? A cold bowl of oatmeal is all you gave me for my last day home?_ Shaking my head, I dump the bowl down the drain (call me wasteful, but a starving kitten wouldn't eat something like this) and decide for breakfast at the Academy. They always provide a free breakfast, and I decide they'll give me something much better than this slop.

Running to my room, I quickly put on a white top, jeans, and my black combat boots—a favorite for the Academy. Heading out the door for possibly the last time ever, I kind of linger in the doorway for a few seconds. But it's not as if the place brings pleasant memories, so I get moving.

The Academy is decked out in ribbons of black and red, the Academy colors. Unlike most districts, we celebrate the reapings. I enter, take a turn left and find myself at the dining hall. Large letters say _Good luck Silena and Mithras_ near the front. I grab a tray and gladly accept the cinnamon French Toast they're dishing out. As I sit down at a table with some other 16 year old girls from the Academy, their words flow over each other's like a river.

"Silena! Good luck, girl, and happy Hunger Games!" one of them, a girl with very long black hair, congratulates.

I laugh. "Thanks, Jas! Hope you get the spot next year!" I know that Jas is kind of jealous, but hey, at least there are two other years left for her to compete. It's one of the good things about this Quell.

"It's probably not even going to be that hard this year. You'll be fighting against a bunch of twelve year olds, and your only competition will be the other careers. Kind of a lame year to win, if you ask me," another girl scoffs. I feel heat building up inside of me. _Of course_ Cresta would want to antagonize me.

"Oh, really Cresta? Well, I'm actually going to win the Games. What are you, the twelfth volunteer in line?" I can't control it, I stand up, silently fuming. But Cresta's not one to forgive grudges easily. And I'm not backing down. Not like there's any choice, considering I just hit her hard. She hates it whenever someone teases her for not being good enough to volunteer. Even someone who's joking would be lucky to get away with just a bloody nose. _Shit, shit, shit, what did I get myself into? You know this is what she wants you to do, Silena._

But I'm not standing down. Besides, even though Cresta's punches hurt, there's a reason why I was the chosen volunteer. I won't back down, oh no. I'll stand tall and proud.

That's when I realize that the entire cafeteria has gone silent. Not even a whisper can be heard. Everyone's staring at us, dumbfounded.

"I'm sorry, what did you say, Silena? Want to say that to my face, _scum_? Huh?"

And then the fight breaks loose.

She swings her arm at me, but I spot it a moment before and duck my head down. It flies by, and her arm swings back into herself...ouch. A taste of her own medicine, literally. I can't help but (inwardly) snicker at the thought. She makes a guttural sound, like a mix between a growl and a snarl, and shakes her arm. It's red and slightly puffed. You wouldn't survive in the Games with that. She prepares herself for another punch, then delivers it. Once again I duck, but she doesn't get injured, either. She lets her rage loose, and—

"That's enough, you two! Cresta, with me! Silena, to the nurse! Everyone else, please continue!" the headmaster interrupted before anything else could happen. I'm mostly unscathed, my adrenaline pumping being the main concern, but I suppose she wants a good chance at victory, and I can't blame her. Nodding tersely, I run down the hallway to the nurse's office.

The woman blinks as I enter, but after a quick observation she deems me fine. I smile gratefully, then rush out. No time to lose, I have to go. I figured that I would do maybe half an hour of practice. Then, there's the matter of going back to my house just in case I've missed anything.

Well, with no time to waste, I'd better get started.

I decide to start in the archery room. I take a bow—silver, the kind they use in the Games—and a sheath of arrows. Nocking the first, I let it fly into the target. It lodges into the second innermost ring, closer to the bullseye though. Huh, not bad. It probably wouldn't be a fatal hit if I was in the Games. But still pretty close. I try again, repeatedly firing the arrows. There's some improvement, and I manage to hit the bullseye maybe two-thirds of the time. I suppose that's all I'm going to get, but I want to try something. I step into the simulator, where silhouettes of opponents stand everywhere. I load the bow and begin.

The silhouettes begin moving, and I string my bow and let the arrows fly. Wham. Wham. I release a volley of three arrows, one of which misses and the others hit. Another. And another. The number of opponents increases. Come on. One. Two. Three. Four. And suddenly I can't make another. A sound goes off. I exit. The trainer gives me my score. 70%. I smile at her compliments. Then, dropping the bow and arrows off at the station, I move to the next place. Swordfighting.

Hand-to-hand combat has always been a weakness, but surprisingly swordfighting doesn't count. I work on my techniques against a training dummy, slashing it and such. Finally, after twenty minutes' practice, I decide to finish. That's enough training, and there will be plenty more time to train before the Games start. I have one more 'task' before I can leave: reaping clothes.

It's a good thing that the Academy has a selection of reaping clothes, because otherwise I probably would be wearing rags to the reaping. It's a small room at the front, and a few people are renting out their clothes. The attendant rushes over when I come in. "Ah, hello, Miss Sinclair. Here to pick out your clothes?" I nod. "I'll look for some that look nice."

I walk by the racks, running my fingers over the fabrics. I love a brick-red one, but the attendant doesn't think it will look good, so I leave it. There are lots of bright green ones left, probably because they don't look very good. Finally, I settle on a dark purple one, and I leave the place. Back home, to the store. To my dad.

I enter the door to the sound of shouting. It's one of the workers fighting my dad. And, as I suspected, it's about payment. Of course it is.

"...Do you know how much I've been struggling? I have a growing daughter to feed, I need money!" he shouts. Wow, we must be losing an employee. Dad only uses the 'my daughter is underfed' card when he's desperate. Although, to be honest, I don't really care what's happening. If I win the Games, Dad and I will be so stinking rich it doesn't matter how many employees we have. If I lose...well, Dad has never cared, so I don't see why I should care how much he'll struggle without the money.

"Well, I have two sons! And they already take out tesserae! Besides, your daughter is entering the Hunger Games!"

"You don't understand! I—" my dad is cut off.

"It doesn't matter whether I understand. I quit," the worker snaps suddenly. "Goodbye. And I hope the rest of you are still capable of thought and can see that this man is causing you nothing but misery." He marches out and slams the door.

"Silena, go to your room," my dad barks once he sees me. "Straight to your room. Right now."

I go to the direction of my room, but I don't go inside. As soon as my dad thinks I'm in my bedroom, I veer out to the small garden outside. Sitting on the steps is Antony, a boy my age who works for my dad. He doesn't train at the Academy, but who cares? He's a friend—a real one at that—and that's all that matters.

"Hey," he says once he sees me. "How was training?"

I shrug. "Alright. Got into a fight with Cresta, but I'm fine. What 'bout your morning?"

"Good. I saw my family, we had breakfast together. But you know what they're like. Too many kids to worry about without me."

I give a short laugh. "Ready for the reaping?"

He smiles. "I have nothing to worry about, so I guess so. My dad gave me something of his to wear. You're going to win, Silena, I just know it. You're gonna win and then you won't have to worry about your father anymore."

"Wouldn't that be nice," I comment. "Of course, I'd give 30 percent of my winnings to you and your family. Maybe that would help them along. And then you wouldn't need the job. Or your older siblings." Antony's parents have seven children, and he's second oldest. Fourteen year old Sara is promised a future job as the apprentice of a sculpture-maker, a carver of stone, and eighteen year old Granite is a junior trainer at the academy. They're middle-class, but all that money isn't enough with a family of nine, so the children have to help out.

"Oh, yes please. If we have spare money in the weeks to come I'll try to convince them to sponsor you. You'll have to hide the gifts from the other Careers, though. Use them as your own secret weapons."

"Good idea." I check the sky. "I guess it's almost time to leave? Should we get ready?" I ask

He nods. "Yeah. I'll meet you by the front door to go." He stands up and opens the door, holding it out to me. We both walk inside, then he goes upstairs while I go to my room. I change into the dress, then after a quick brush of my hair I'm ready to go. I walk outside to the front door, trying to avoid stepping on any swords or getting my dress caught in one of the machines, but it's really not that hard to do as I've lived here my entire life. Antony meets me at the door a few minutes later, and we head out to the reaping.

* * *

**2M: Mithras Peak (16)**

**Pre-Reapings, Reapings**

I take the spear and throw it to the target, about 15 yards away. It hits dead center. I smile.

"Nice one, Mithras. Hey, can I have a try?" My best friend, Silvius, compliments.

I pull out the spear, careful not to damage it. "Sure, go ahead." He takes it, and throws it at the target. It hits the outside of the bullseye, not quite perfect but pretty close. "Not bad," I comment.

The day of the reapings, and I'm where I started off my career as a Career—the Academy, surrounded by friends. Silvius is here, my best friend, and so is everyone else that I've met along the years. Next time I'm here, it'll be as a victor. And I have to admit, Victor Mithras Peak _does _have a good ring to it. I mean, I've been training all my life for this, and not just I'll win a Hunger Games, I'll win a Quarter Quell, too. Not quite the Quell I'd hoped for, but I got to win two years early, so what does it matter?

"You guys want to go outside? The Victor garden or something?" I suggest. The others nod, and out we go.

I've always liked the Victor garden, a place dedicated to the Victors of District Two. At the front are our earliest victors, from the first Hunger Games century. A bit further back are the victors from the second Hunger Games century, and even further back then that is the most recent victors, those (mostly) alive today. There's lush green grass beneath your feet, and a bubbling fountain in the middle. Around the fountain are our Quell victors, the ones that I will join soon. Our district's only had two, but all the other districts have one, and Eight and Ten don't even _have _any. Besides, the sheer number of Two victors overwhelms even One and Four. We have _ninety seven_ victors total. One, in second place, only has seventy four. Four, in third, has sixty six. And Ten, the lowest, has six victors, only one of which is alive. Haliya, I think her name is.

I've read up on each of the Quarter Quells. Personally, I think that the first Quarter Quell was the best, followed by the seventh. I mean, that arena! The tributes were in the middle of the air at the start, what could beat that? The second was my least favorite; although One would have had one more victor if Alexandrite had won, rather than Haymitch.

But soon, the twelfth Quarter Quell will be my favorite. All my hard work will have paid off, and what's not to like about that? All the fame, the glory, the honor—and the money, but that's not important. Maybe Silvius would volunteer next year. But that doesn't matter, not really.

My friends start doing what they do every year at this time—betting. Without knowing who the tributes are, they make random guesses, choosing ages, deaths, arenas, and such.

"I bet the girl from One will be a bitch."

"Nah, I'm guessing she'll be alright."

"The boy from Seven will be second place."

"The arena will be a desert."

"No. You know Skyes, she doesn't like extreme climates. My guess is an indoor arena."

"I'll give you five on that one."

My friends go on like this, shouting out facts. The Six girl will be the first to go, the Nine boy will be twelve years old, the Twelve boy will be fifteen. Then, I get an idea. I'll be rich as anything once I get back, but why not make some extra money if I can?

"I bet that the Twelve girl won't last past the bloodbath," one of my friends says.

"I'll give you fifty," I respond, sticking out my hand. He takes it. Now all I have to do is make sure she lives past the bloodbath. Simple.

Silvius realizes this. "You're betting with Mithras? Seriously?" He shakes his head. "Talk about bad ideas."

"Shut up, Silvius," he responds frustratedly, realizing his mistake. Turning to me, he asks, "Can I take it back?"

I shake my head. "Sorry, a deal's a deal," I say. "Maybe she'll die in the Bloodbath, you don't know." But I know that it's highly unlikely.

He shrugs. "Eh, but it's unlikely. C'mon, I feel like we should get going.

"Alright then."

We walk together for a while, my friends and I. Silvius' house is the first one we see, and after saying goodbye (until the reaping), we keep on moving. Finally, we get to my house. Mom has a day off from work, and Dad's a trainer, so when we have a break, he does, too. I wave goodbye, one of them yells, "we'll be cheering for ya!", and then I walk inside.

"Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad," I greet. My dad gives a friendly smile, while my mom just gives a nod. It might not seem like much, but considering her work, that's a sign of affection.

"I need to go ten minutes beforehand, but you can stay behind until you need to leave, Mithras," my mother reminds.

I go to the bathroom—being a 'rich' family in Two means we can afford running water at all times—and give my face a quick wash. After all, it's a certainty that I'm going to the Capitol, so I want to look neat and presentable. As my mother says, _first impressions are everything_. Even if the prep team ruins my hard work. My reaping outfit was ironed yesterday and hangs on a clothes hanger on the doorknob. I change, them once I'm certain I look nice enough, I walk calmly to the door, where my dad waits. We walk together a few blocks to the square, then I sign in. _Mithras Peak, your newest victor._

* * *

**2F: Silena Sinclair (16)**

**Reapings**

I'm with the other sixteen year old girls, waiting for the escort to pick a slip. I see that Jas is sporting a black eye. Ouch. Although I can't honestly say I'm sorry for her. She deserved it.

I turn my attention back to the escort, who looks happy to be in Two. Her hand snatches up a name, and reads it out. "Cilina-"

I raise my hand and shout out the classic two words. "I volunteer!" Jas scowls as I walk up proudly to the stage. The escort runs one of her deep magenta nails through my hair.

"My, my. You're so pretty!" she comments.

"Thank you," I respond.

"What's your name?"

"Silena. Silena Sinclair."

The woman interrogates me for about another minute, asking about everything from my family to why I volunteered. I decide to play the graceful-but-deadly character, saying things like, 'I know that I can do this' and 'I'm very thankful to everyone at the Academy who trained me and prepared me for today'. _Lots _of thank yous and smiles. I may be from the poorer part of Two, but that doesn't mean that I don't know about presentation and manners.

"And now, time to pick a gentleman to join our lovely Silena here!" she says, although we all know it's Mithras who will join me here. Her fingers snatch the first slip that they meet, and she unfolds it quickly. "Jupiter Monret!"

* * *

**2M: Mithras Peak (16)**

**Reapings & Post-Reaping**

"I volunteer!" I say semi-casually. I want to show people that I'm not afraid, but I still want to be presentable, taken as a real enemy. I walk up, and take my place as District Two's newest tribute.

"Hello! What's your name?" she asks.

"Mithras Peak," I respond formally.

Her face lights up in recognition. "Oh! The son of Victoria Peak?" she asks.

I smile and nod. "Yes, that's me." The escort asks me more questions, but they're all easy to answer and not really that important anyways. Like, what Capitol citizen cares whether my favorite color is blue or red? Any that do are stupid, although I wouldn't count it out. _All_ Capitol citizens are stupid.

"Well, that's all from District Two! Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" the escort chirps. And then it's time for the goodbyes, the last of home I'll see for a while.

My parents are the first ones in, naturally. "Take care," my dad says, "And hopefully we'll see you in a month or so."

"Yes, remember everything we've taught you and you'll be fine," Mom adds. We stay together, just staring, as the minutes slip by. Soon, my mom has to go. "Duties aren't relaxed just because my son's in the Hunger Games. I had ten minutes to say goodbye to you, and then I had to go." She gives me a quick kiss—certainly surprising—and then leaves.

"Well, that was surprising," my dad chuckles. "Who know that she could be that affectionate. Anyways," he says, changing the topic, "Have you thought about your token? You know you're allowed to bring one—"

"Why do I need a token when I'll be back soon?" I laugh. "Nope, haven't got anything. Don't need it though."

"I want you to have something, though. Too bad I didn't bring anything, I thought you already had a token with you." He rummages around in his pockets and pulls out a small coin, the ones that we use sometimes in the market. "I don't have anything else...take this, okay?"

I nod. "Alright," I accept. "Thanks."

Soon, the Peacekeepers came along and took them away, Silvius and a few of the other guys came next. "Good luck, alright? You know you're the best person out there. Nobody else's going to win. Nobody else is as good as you."

"Don't worry, Silvius, I know. I didn't volunteer just to die," I assure him.

"I know, but I just want to make sure," he responds. We (all of us) chat for a while until it's time for them to leave. "I guess I'll see you soon," I say. And then it's over.

Now that that's over; let the Hunger Games begin!

* * *

**2F: Silena Sinclair (16)**

**Post-Reaping**

As I wait for my only visitor (apart from dad), my mind runs through what just happened. I. Can't. Fucking. Believe. Him. I might never see him again, and all he has the decency to say is 'try to win'? I mean, sixteen years of experience have told me this won't be too much of an emotional moment, but all he says is one sentence and then just...leaves?

I wish Mom was still alive.

"Silena?' a voice asks. "I thought it would be longer until I came in. Guess they let me come in before your dad, eh?"

I look up and shake my head. "Son of a bitch didn't bother to stay too long."

"Oh, so your grandmother..." he trails off with a light chuckle.

I nod. "She was that bad, too." I sigh. "On a lighter note, it's good to see you here."

He smiles. "Yeah. Hey Silena...you know they let you have a token, right? Could-could you take this?" He holds out a small wooden box, and I hesitantly open it. Inside is the most beautiful bracelet I have ever seen. It's a silver chain, inlaid with eight or so small diamonds that gleam. "Think of us when you wear it. Sara, Granite, me...we're all cheering for you."

"You shouldn't have. This money should have been spent on your family." But I take it and undo the clasp, fastening it to my left wrist. "But thank you."

"You can win. I know it," he responds. Sincerely. "God luck, Silena."

And then he's gone. Everyone I've ever known is gone and my life is taking a whole new turn.

* * *

**Well I hope you've enjoyed! I'm certainly glad that I got this out here! Warning: long note ahead, skip if you don't have a reserved tribute (or read if you want to potentially submit one):**

**I'm currently letting the reservations go by because I realize you guys might've forgotten about this story. However, I have the D3 chapter 3/4 written, so when I publish that, all reservations will expire. If you _don't _have a reservation but want to, I won't have you ask 'can I reserve the backup spot' but if you want to send in a backup form, then that's alright. If the tribute gets submitted by the original reserver, include a backup district. **

**I'll see you guys in a week to 1 + 1/2 weeks!**

**~Dragon**

* * *

**EDIT: Forgot the mini quiz! I'll keep track of the points at the end of the chapters, too. **

**1\. What are the D2 Academy colors?**

**2\. What was the accuracy rate (percentage) of Silena in the archery station?**

**3\. What was the name of Haymitch's final competitor? (in here)**

**4\. What is Mithras' mother's first name?**

**Points**

_**Nautics: **_**6 points**

_**Azke:**_** 8 points**

_**Blouish:**_** 8 points**


	4. District 3 reapings

**3M: Horizon Windheart (16)**

**Pre-Reaping**

When I wake up, the first thing I sense is the sweet smell of breakfast.

Not the kind that we usually have, the soupy, watery oatmeal and stale bread. No, the good stuff. The stuff that we only have on special occasions. It makes my mouth water, and I hear my stomach begging me to go down and eat it. But I manage to wait while I slowly get out of bed and walk to the kitchen. I see the food. It's a feast. And it just looks _so delicious. _

Rolls are on one of the plates. They're the kind my sister Vera loves. I remember making these one time. You roll the dough out, and then spread jam on one side, the jam made with fresh strawberries. You roll it up, and cook it until it's golden and flaky and _perfect. _No wonder she loves them, they're amazing.

My favorite sits on a plate next to it. They've lost their name over time, but the baker nextdoor says that they were once called _croissants_, which is what he calls them in his store. Half moon shaped, rolled in layers, crispy and buttery. My mom saves her money to buy them on my birthday, as she does with the jam rolls for Vera. But it's not my birthday, or Vera's. So why is all the food out?

Then it hits me. It's reaping day, which is (or is meant to be) as big of a celebration as one's birthday. I'm not sure whether it's fair that we're supposed to treat this day of doom as a festivity, but law is law, so there's nothing we can do. We have to celebrate today, no matter what we think of the day. Even if Vera or I, or one of our friends, are reaped, we still have to act like it's a big party.

I grab a croissant, and sit down next to Vera. I tear off large chunks and cram it in my mouth. Vera rolls her eyes at me.

"Careful, you don't want to choke," she says between mouthfuls. "That really would be a disaster."

"Better than being reaped," I respond.

My adoptive sister lays a gentle hand on my shoulder. "You won't be reaped. You have what, four entries? There are so many names in that bowl. You have _nothing _to worry about."

I sigh. "I wish."

As I grab another croissant, our mother, Scarlet, comes in to the kitchen. She comes over and greets us. Then, we get hurried along to our rooms, to get all fancy in out reaping clothes. District Three is third to be reaped. Vera likes to watch the other reapings, but I don't. I usually don't get to sleep in that much, because my adoptive dad makes me do technology classes for when I have to take over his coding lab. They're at about 6, and on all weekdays, so I like sleeping in when I can. I watch the reapings after ours, and I 'catch up' on the earlier districts' reapings afterwards.

The outfit that I choose for the reaping is a black button-up shirt and long gray pants. It's about the nicest thing I have. My adoptive parents hate the fact that I always wear black, but I don't like colors. They're too bright and flashy and annoying for me.

I come out of the room, and grab a third croissant before heading out the door. I had promised one of my friends, Thorn, that I would meet him for the reaping. Taking a bite, I said, "Bye, Vera!" and then rushed out the door to greet Thorn.

"Thorn. How are you?" I ask when I finally see him.

"Doing well. Do you want to get something in the market for today?"

I sigh. "I feel like you're doing this on purpose." Thorn knows how much I hate shopping, and although he doesn't like it either, he still tolerates it.

"Yup," Thorn says, popping the _p_. "But we're going, Mom says I have to get something." I allow him to drag me to the market, more crowded than usual. I take out all my money from my pocket. "Hmm, what am I supposed to get?"

"I don't know." The prices have been raised, not by much but all the merchants take advantage of reaping day and do it. I let Thorn walk around as he gathers useless luxuries such as sugar and a cut of venison, which is absolutely pointless. Then, I'm forced to get some food for my family. "Thorn, why?"

He piles two loaves of bread—_white_ bread, the expensive stuff—into my basket and I force myself to ignore the cost. "If this goes over the amount of money, you're paying for half of it." I say to him.

He laughs. "Alright. I'll agree to that." And then he adds a half-pound of fruit into my basket.

"Anything else you want to force me to buy?"

"How about some goat cheese?"

I consider it for a moment. If I take it, the price will tip over the amount of money I have. But we just don't need it. "Alright," I finally agree. "I'll give you some of this if you give me a bit of the venison." It's been a while since I've had meat, anyways.

"Alright. Let's go over there." We take a wheel if cheese and pay for half of it each. Then, we make our trades before we're forced to go back home.

"Who do you think it'll be?" he asks.

I shrug. "Probably two kids of the factory workers. The girl will probably be a twelve year old, and the boy will be thirteen. I'm guessing that the only way we'll win is with a sixteen-year-old."

He nods. "Yeah, you're probably right. Well, bye. See you at the reaping."

* * *

**3F: Vera Windheart (16)**

**Pre-Reaping, Reaping**

I hear the door swing shut behind Verizon, and think, once again, about the Games. They're terrible. I know that I shouldn't be worried, that Horizon or I won't get reaped. Those spots will most likely go to the poorer kids of our district, the ones who have to take out tesserae. But I feel like it's going to be a bad year. Well, of course it is. It's the Quarter Quell.

I put my reaping dress on. It's light blue, and it used to be my mother's. After slipping my feet into the pair of shoes my mother laid out, I walk out of my room and just sit there, playing with a few parts from circuits. It's part of our homework for school; we're working on a project where we have to make a game involving circuitry.

I review my designs, and start to decorate the wooden box that my game will be held in. The game, if successful, will be shipped off to a Capitol child. The game is a remake of a game they had pre-Panem, where you have to press buttons in the order that they light up in. It gets harder as you go along.

I unscrew the lid of a paint bottle that our art teacher let me borrow, and paint the box in all black. Once that dries, I use the other colors to paint dots on the box that represent the flashing lights of the game.

I'm just letting the paint on the lid dry when Horizon walks through the door. He's carrying a basket full of food, and it'll be good for celebrations post Reaping. I greet him and he dumps the bag onto the table, which creaks slightly. "Is it time to go?" he asks.

I nod. "Just about." At that moment, our parents come to the room, thanking Horizon for the food. Then, they told us that we should leave for the reaping.

I watched the district One and Two reapings already. One reaped a twelve year old girl that nobody volunteered for, which should be relieving to outliers—one less Career to deal with. Their boy looks deadly, and so does Two's tributes, both volunteers as usual.

My parents, Horizon, and I walk to the town square for the reaping. They tell us where to meet after the reaping, then disappear into the crowd. I check in: the Peacekeepers draw a bit of blood, and then I'm ushered into a line. And then the reaping starts.

Our escort, Geranium Frillsworth, comes onstage with her bright red hair and silly voice. It's the same every year. She reads the Treaty of the Treason, the document that tells us about the rebellion that happened three hundred years ago, and how these games were created to squash all rebellion in the future. She then reminds us of this year's Quarter Quell: _"In reminder that the rebels caused punishment for future generations, the tributes will be of age 12 to 16." _If only Horizon and I were a year older. Then I wouldn't have to worry, at least not for another year. We're lucky. We don't have to take out tesserae. It will be one of those poor kids who has to go into the games, not one of the richest families.

Geranium's voice interrupts. "Let's start with a _very lucky _lady to join us onstage!" I barely manage to conceal a snort. Lucky. Right. Geranium's hand lingers in the bowl for a second before pulling out a name. She unfolds the paper, and gives a dramatic pause. "Vera Windheart!"

_No. _No, no, no. This _cannot _be happening. How? We had so little entries, just... how could this happen? _How _was something like this even _possible? _

I walk up the stage, each step feeling like a lifetime. _Thud, thud_. I try to ignore the sickening feeling in my stomach, but I can't. As I walk up the stairs, I try to keep myself still, try to keep from toppling over. But my life is now ruined. In a month's time, I'll probably be dead.

Geranium smiles as she shakes my head. "Vera, is it? I'm glad to see you! Are you exited for the Games?" she asks.

_No. _"Yes..." I force myself to say, still wearing my fake smile.

"Well, I'm glad! And now, let's pick a boy to join you!"

* * *

**3M: Horizon Windheart (16)**

**Reaping, Goodbyes**

_No, no, no. Why did they have to do this? _Why is my sister the one to compete? Why? I'm still contemplating this as Geranium pulls a slip out for the boys, and reads out the name.

_Why my sister? _

A boy next to me nudges my shoulder. "You're Horizon, aren't you?"

"Yeah, so what if I am?" I retort back.

"Geranium just called your name."

What? I'm competing, _too__? _This is either some sort of joke, or the worst form of torture possible. My mind hopes for the former, but my brain tells me it's the latter. But, no matter if it's a trick or not, in two weeks' time either both of us, me, or Vera will be dead. I will never be able to see my sister as anything but competition anymore. We will never be able to be normal sibling anymore.

"Horizon Windheart? Where are you?" Geranium asks. "Come on up!"

What can I do but what she says? Heavily, I plod up the stairs. Geranium smiles and shakes my hand. "Well, everyone, I believe we have sibling tributes! Wow, such a surprise!" She says that, but the games get sibling tributes about every five years or so. So really, not a big deal. The last pair were from District 9, when Vera and I were 11. They both died in the Bloodbath.

I really hope we aren't the same.

"Shake hands, you two," Geranium mumbles. We do so. "I present to you, your tributes, Vera and Horizon Windheart!" As she says that, we're meant to clap. But nobody does. Silence is all. And then, we're rushed backstage and guided to the Justice Building, where we say our goodbyes.

I enter the building. The door is outlined in gold leaf. A luxury we can't afford anywhere else. And there's an elevator inside. I've never been on an elevator before. It's rickety and shaky and makes me nervous. When I get to a small room, I sit on the plush, velvet couch and wait for my parents and friends to come.

My mom comes in first, which makes me think that my dad is saying goodbye to Vera. She rushes over to me, and we hug. She pulls away, tears in her eyes. "Try to make it home, okay? Just, please, try hard. I have to lose one, but I might not have to lose both. Try. _Please._" She's begging now. "I love you so, so much."

The Peacekeepers come in and tell her that her time's up. She squeezes my hand once more, then leaves.

"I love you," I say as she leaves. She responds with the same thing. Then, she's gone. Possibly forever.

My dad comes in. He says a few things, advice on how to win. Then, his time is up as well. He leaves. And in comes my final guest. Thorn. My best and only friend.

"Wow, Horizon. The Hunger Games. Just don't die, okay? Please? Life here would be pretty boring without a friend."

I laugh. "Don't worry. I'll try my best."

And I mean it. But I'm not sure if my best is enough.

* * *

**3F: Vera Windheart**

**Goodbyes**

As soon as the crowd dissipates, the Peacekeepers march me to the Justice Building. My first visitor is my dad. "I'm so sorry, but you can do this, Vera. Work hard, and you can maybe win."

"Yeah. I'll try, Dad. Any tips?" I ask.

My dad pauses a second. "Use your smarts. Try to get a decent score, and learn everything you can in the training center. And allies—"

I scoff. "Dad, you really think Horizon and I won't ally?"

"Yes, I know you will. But another tribute might be useful as well. A three or four person alliance could maybe help your chances against the Careers."

I nod. "Alright. Goodbye, I love you."

My mom is next. "Take care. I know that one of you two can come home, so please, _please _try, won't you? I can't lose both of you..."

I nod. "Alright. I promise that one of us will come home." She pulls me into a hug, and a few seconds later it's time for her to go. Reporters swarm us as we get out. I'm thankful that neither Horizon or I were crying, I don't want to be marked as a weakling.

Horizon can tell that I'm scared, although his eyes betray him, too. I'm hoping that the Capitol citizens and other tributes can't tell, because a scared tribute is the same as a crying one. It's amazing; Horizon and I aren't siblings by blood, but we're really close. And now we're being dragged into the arena together. I think of Horizon's advanced computing lessons, my inventing hobby, which might be useful in real life.

Only one of us will come out. And I have honestly no idea which one of us I want it to be.

* * *

**Really sorry for the short (2.7k words only) chapter guys. It's kinda hard to write pre-reapings with siblings, as they live in the same house, and I don't have a whole new cast of family members to introduce and write about. I hope I did well, though! **

**I always appreciate feedback *cough cough* reviews *cough cough*, so...yeah. The D4 chapter should be out in 1.5 to 2 weeks. See you then! **

**MINI QUIZ: **

**(Nobody got points last time, the standings are still the same.) **

**1\. Who was adopted; Horizon or Vera?**

**2\. How many people will the siblings invite into their alliance?**

**3\. What is the game that Vera's invention is based off of?**

**4\. What is the color of Geranium's hair?**

**Bye, and don't forget your reviews! There are also four open slots to submit to, too—I'd like a full SYOT by next chapter if possible. **

**~Dragon**


	5. District 4 reapings

**4F: Monroe Saunders (15)**

**Pre-Reaping**

"Hey, Monroe! Want to come to the beach with us?" One of my friends, Tida, asks. She's in her swimsuit, a luxury only some of us can afford, and a few other girls (including Serenity, my best friend) are gathered around.

"Sure," I respond. "Just let me get my stuff."

I run into my house, grabbing the small beach bag that hangs over the back of the chair. "Going to the beach, I see," my mom comments. "Be back before eleven, ten thirty if you want breakfast!" I nod, then rush to the closet that my brother, Evan, and I share. A beach towel and some clothes to change into afterwards are thrown into the bag, and then I grab my swimsuit and quickly change. Finally, some sunscreen and I'm good to go.

Outside, everyone's waiting. "Quick, Tida remarks. "Good for when you're in the arena. Plus, you can swim wicked fast, so all in all, it's not surprising that you're the female volunteer."

"Oh, Tida," Serenity sighs.

Tida puts her face in an expression of mock-hurt. "Did you just 'oh, Tida' me?" she asks. "Oh, I am mortally wounded by this...oh, I'm dying…" she clutches her chest and lets out a fake cough.

"You're good." She smiles at my praise.

We keep walking. My house is in the middle part of Four, so we still have about a mile to walk. Fortunately, Academy training means that we're stronger than a lot of other districts and it's no problem for us to get there quickly. We push past the gates. And—

It's a celebration, for me. A large green banner hangs from two poles, spelling out my name and _300th HG victor._ There's cake, snacks, breakfast, everything. I gasp.

"What...is this actually real?" I ask.

Tida piles pancakes onto her plate. "I should hope so," she remarks.

"We reserved the beach to ourselves. Do you want the first slice of cake?" Serenity asks.

I nod. "Of course." We walk over to the table. The cake is quite large, vanilla cake with buttercream frosting dyed blue. The different shades of blue make for a marbled effect, and the words _Good luck Monroe _are artfully written on the cake. Serenity takes a plastic knife and cuts a reasonable sized slice of cake off. She slides it on a paper plate, and then continues to cut one for herself and then everyone else who wants cake. I grab a fork and take a bite.

"Where did you get this?" I ask. It had to be one of the more expensive bakers, as none of the poor-side bakers could sell something this good. It's fluffy and moist, delicious.

"There was a new bakery that opened a few days ago. We went yesterday and got the cake, and I'm glad to know it's as good as everyone else says it is." I nod in agreement. Serenity and I talk for a while in between bites of cake, mainly the Hunger Games, but of course we do. The reapings _are _today, and pretty much everything about life in District Four revolves around the Hunger Games, whether it's the Academy or the Capitol's new demand for salmon (because, surprise surprise, our female tribute from the _Hunger Games _loved it).

Finishing the last bite of cake, I put the fork and plate in the garbage bag that my friends brought along. Tida suggests that we all go swimming, which everyone agrees to. We run into the water and splash around before Serenity thinks of something we could do.

"We should ride the waves!" Everyone cheers, because wave riding is one of our favorite things to do. I grab the boards, and soon we're all ready.

"I see a big one coming up," I comment. "Three, two, one, let's go!"

We all jump in the wave, getting a lot of spray in our faces. It stings slightly, but it's so fun we have to do it again. About ten times again.

Serenity suggests Castle Wars after that, which is just as great. Basically, each group builds a castle, and the other team has to hurl sand and small shells at it to destroy it. It's not fun in the same way as wave riding, as the castles take a while to build, but it's great fun to throw shells at the other group's castle.

I'm elected leader of one team, and Tida of the other. We build our sandcastle carefully, as we _have _to win. Most of the castle is solid, but we've added details such as windows and balconies. There's even a few people outside the castle.

Once everyone's finished building, we spend a few minutes gathering shells before the wars can begin.

"Ready to lose?" Tida asks.

I smirk. "Not if we can help it." And then the wars begin.

You're not allowed to touch the castles after the wars begin, for obvious reasons. So, everyone is on offense, because nobody wants to be pelted with shells. Fortunately, I have relatively good aim and I'm able to hit the castle most of the time.

"Your castle collapsed! We win!" I shout once it collapses. Tida sighs and admits defeat. "Good game, though. I'm going to miss these." Hanging out on the beach with friends, playing castle wars and...everything about District Four.

"We've gotta go, the Reaping's soon," Serenity says. We nod and start to pack up. I offer to take the cake home, as I know Evan, my eleven year old brother, will love it.

"This was a great party," I say as we head out. "I'll miss you guys when I'm in the arena."

At home, my reaping dress has already been set out. It's blue-green in color, and my I purposefully did that to show District Four pride. I change and then I'm ready.

"Ready to go?" Evan asks. Our mom is just doing up the last button on his shirt.

I nod. "I'm ready."

* * *

**4M: Drake Marquisse (15)**

**Pre-Reaping, Reaping**

Azora slides her red counter across the board. "I win," she announces triumphantly.

"No, you don't," I say, pushing my red counter on the spot hers formerly occupied. "I win."

She frowns. "I don't think that's how it works...Alright, _fine._ You win."

At that second, my brother Cook walks up to us. "Having a good time?" he asks. He's just come back from the morning shift at my dad's shipwright factory. Usually, I would be there too, but I get the day off as I'm volunteering for the Hunger Games. My mother needs the money, desperately. I wasn't the chosen volunteer, but after a bit of convincing my dad was able to get me a guaranteed spot as volunteer. Speaking of my mom, she's still asleep, letting out a few feeble coughs.

"You bet," I answer. "I beat Azora for the second time this week." I smile while I say that last part, and my sister scowls. Azora is usually great at board games, but since mother's only getting worse and worse, it's hard not to blame her for worrying and being distracted.

"It's nearly time for the reaping. Have you eaten yet?" my dad asks, walking in. I shake my head; I can just eat on the train to the Capitol. "What do you want?"

I shrug. "I don't need anything, but if you insist that I eat I guess I'll just have toast."

"Seriously? You can have anything you want and you ask for toast?" Azora scoffs.

But my dad nods and puts three slices of bread in our toaster. I grab the butter and, once the food is finished, spread it on. My sister reluctantly grabs a slice and starts putting butter on it.

After I've finished eating, I get changed for the reaping. "I'll be at the academy," I say as I rush out the door.

I don't go to the academy, not really. There's a spot in Four, like a cliff but quite low, that I often like going to. It's quiet, and nobody really pays attention to it. I'm sure that at some point, my dad will check in with the academy and see that I haven't been going there as much as I say I do. I mean, of course I still go, but just not as often. And my dad gets worried about us when we're by ourselves. Mainly because one less person means less money put in our medicine fund, but that doesn't really change anything.

The cliff is a place where I can just think, a place where I don't have to worry. That's the main reason I love it, I think. And right now I do think. About the Games.

I wish my mother wasn't sick. We could just be a...a _normal_ family. A lot of people at school say that normal is boring, but if their mother was dying I bet they'd feel differently. And I wouldn't have to volunteer, which I don't really want to do.

The waves are tall today. A few even reach near the bottoms of my shoes, but none reach me. A good thing that they don't. I couldn't go back wet.

I pick my feet up and start walking home. Azora and Cook have changed into their reaping clothes, and are ready to go. Our dad joins us about a minute later

"Should we bring her?" I ask my dad, referring to my mom. He shakes his head, reasoning that the Peacekeepers will probably understand how weak she is.

We silently wait in line to sign in. Once Cook (who was in front of me) leaves to the fifteen year olds' section, I step forwards. I stick my finger out and let them scan it. Finally, I can go.

"Welcome, District Four!" our escort says although according to logic, it's us that should be welcoming him. He reads out the Treaty of the Treason and plays a video, then it's time for the girls' reaping. "Before we begin, are there any volunteers?" he asks as he always does. In a district where nine out of ten times there's a volunteer, our escort has just gotten too lazy to pick out a slip.

Instantly, a girl from the fifteen year old section raises her hand and walks towards the stage. She has light brown, curly hair and blue eyes.

"Excellent! What's your name?" the escort asks.

"Monroe Saunders," the girl responds.

"Welcome, Monroe! Now, onto the boys: any volunteers?"

"I volunteer!" I say, walking towards the stage. Before he can ask me for my name, I tell him. "Drake Marquisse."

"Lovely!" Fortunately, our escort doesn't bother with questions. We shake hands. "Your tributes from District Four!"

* * *

**4F: Monroe Saunders (15)**

**Post-Reaping**

My family are the first people to see me. Evan pulls me into a hug and I smile. "Be careful out there, Monroe. You can win."

"I will," I respond. "I've been training for so long. I'll hopefully be soon before you know it."

"You can do it, Monroe. We know it," my mom says. I tell them everything they need to do now that I'm in the Games—or going to them, anyways. About the cake, and how to continue enlisting Evan in the academy. After that, we just sit there quietly until they have to go.

"I love you!" I shout as the Peacekeepers escort them out.

"Love you too!" Evan shouts.

Serenity and Tida are next. "Good luck. Remember, you can swim. And you know about plants, which most of your allies won't," Tida says.

"Just know that we'll be cheering for you every step of the way."

They give me words of encouragement until they, too, have to leave. I'll miss them.

But I can't think about them right now. After all, I need to win the Hunger Games.

* * *

**4M: Drake Marquisse (15)**

**Post-Reaping**

My family are naturally the first people in, and the only. "Here," Azora offers, holding out a polished rock. "A token."

"Thanks."

She smiles. "I suppose the next time you see us will be when we get the medicine for Mom. Don't let us down."

"I'm not planning on dying, Azora."

"You can win, Drake. We know you can," Cook adds.

"Just don't forget to watch your back," my dad adds.

I nod. "Thanks, guys."

Once they leave, I'm left all alone.

We are shown to a taxicab once we exit, where reporters swarm. I try to ignore them, focusing on other things. Soon, the train station comes into view and we board one of the trains that are taking twenty-three children to their certain deaths.

**Wow, I was not expecting this to finish this quickly! I still need those last two submissions, so please submit! Guests can submit now. **

**1\. Who's your favorite Career? **

**2\. Favorite Career of the opposite gender? (my favorite is Lazuli, so my favorite male character) **

**3\. Where is Monroe's beach bag usually located? **

**4\. What color was the counter mentioned in the game Drake and Azora were playing?**

**Remember to review!**

**~Dragon**


	6. District 5 reapings

**5F: Reyna Heliora (16)**

**Pre-Reaping**

I sprint out the back door of our house after shoving a pair of shoes on, running down the dirt alleyway behind our house and the others. I'm a mess; but then again it _is _only 6:00, and I usually sleep in on holidays like this.

The streets of lower-class Five are practically empty, only one or two people out. I'm sure the town square is bustling in comparison, but there's nothing that I'd buy there so I can't test my theory. I'm not entirely sure where I'm going, but I just have to get away from my house for an hour or two before the reaping starts.

The sun is a sixth through the sky, and although the dawn's always wonderful to see I'm actually glad that I get to miss it for once. I have to be wide awake and ready for work by four o'clock in the morning usually, as it takes about half an hour to travel to the windmills and my first shift is from 4:45 to 6:00. It's exhausting. I've seen sunrise enough that it's more of a treat to wake up hen the sky is already light, not dark.

The wind is particularly biting today and it whips me several times. Gingerly, I touch my right cheek. The pain is instant, searing. And the wind's only been making it worse. Did my parents see? No, I barely saw them this morning and they were looking at the left side of my face, not the right. They couldn't have seen, no matter how much I want them to, because it won't stop otherwise...

I give myself a shake. _Don't think that way, Reyna. You're safe for now. He can't get you here. _And however false it may be, I keep telling myself this.

After about ten more minutes, I'm at a house that I've been traveling to for the last few years. My feet just took me here, but I guess I'm just so used to coming here that this is what happened. Besides, coming here will have been a good thing, right? I'm pretty sure my best friend has makeup that will cover the forming bruises. She won't ask questions, being who she is, plus, I don't really have anywhere else to go.

I rap faintly at the door. There's a chance that they'll be asleep, but it's unlikely.

Seconds pass.

_Please be home, please be home, please be—_

The wooden door swings open to show the face of a curly-haired blond woman. I remember, how similarly my friend resembles her mother in appearance. "Oh, Reyna! It's good to see you." Turning down to hall, she calls, "Winnifred, dear, Reyna's here to see you!"

I smile and walk past her before she can notice my bruise, or if she has already, ask any questions about it. Two rooms to the left, a friendly face peers out of the bedroom. "Hi Reyna! I'm so glad you could stop by!" She gestures me in, and I follow her into her pastel-pink painted room.

"Ouch, did you trip or something? That looks like a nasty bruise." I nod, thankful for her suggestion. "Let me guess: some careless worker left a wire where they shouldn't have and you didn't expect it?"

"Pretty much," I shrug.

"Well, I'll get you fixed up." She disappears into her bathroom and about a minute later emerges with a small jar of _something_. She takes a brush and dabs it in, then starts applying the cream to my bruise. It burns, but there's not a lot I can do because I _really do not_ want my parents, or anyone for that matter, to see this. And Winnifred wouldn't mind doing this every day, I'm sure. I hate taking advantage of her kindness in ways like this, but I'm not sure what would happen if my parents found out. Although I wouldn't complain if they did, I know someone else who would.

A few minutes later, Winnifred's finished with the makeup and puts the jar away. "Do you want me to put some more on? Because, like, I have this really cute shade of lipstick that would look perfect on you." I shake my head. "Your loss then."

She shows me a mirror, and I'm surprised to see that the bruise is completely gone. I look much more normal, as opposed to before.

"Oh! Did I tell you about my shopping trip yesterday?" I shake my head. "Well, I was shopping for clothes in the marketplace, and I saw, like, this really cute skirt, and, like, I had to buy it. I'm like, thinking of wearing it to the reaping, so let me know what you think so I can, like, know whether it's a good idea or not. And, like, my dress from two years ago would look _amazing_ on you, and it'd probably fit because you're so skinny, so if you want it, don't be afraid to, like, ask. And also, Lotus is, like, the best fashion consultant so, if you want fashion advice you should totally go and ask her. Oh, and do you like, want the dress?"

I shrug. "Sure you do," she says, throwing a bundle of fabric in my hands. "You know that, like, the reaping's in thirty minutes? You should, like, go home so you can get ready. Feel free to come after the reaping."

— — —

Finally, I'm back home. I swing open the creaky door and let out a internal sigh of relief as my mind takes in the absence of a certain seventeen year old. I'm safe, for now at least.

"Oh! Reyna, you're back! Malcom came earlier, but left when you weren't here. Where were you?" My mother asks.

"Winnifred's," I mumble. My mom nods understandingly.

"We've got the bath set up for you, and—oh, I see Winnifred gave you her dress. Well, change into that." Unwittingly, I look down at the clothing that I'm still apparently holding. Nodding, I head to the bathroom and start getting ready.

The bath is warm, but I'm careful not to put my face under the water. Once I've finished, I take a look at the dress. It's long-sleeved, which will hide some of the bruises on my upper arms and hopefully that one lower down. I quickly slip it on and, like Winnifred said, it fits well, actually a bit loose. My old one I've had since twelve and it was getting painfully tight. I check my reflection in the cracked mirror, and I'm relieved to see I look quite normal.

"Hey, Reyna. Ready to go?" my sister, Logan, asks. I nod. I'm ready to go.

* * *

**5M: Blayke Edison (16) **

**Pre-Reaping**

"Blayke?" My mom calls from outside the room. "Do you want that book on survival skills?" I look up from the _Advanced Swordfighting Techniques_ book that my stepdad bought me.

"Sure, thanks," I respond. She enters, looking around at the mess of my room. Most of it is related to Hunger Games skills, in particular swordfighting but also swimming (which, unfortunately, I can't do very well) and survival skills. Most people who come over here think that I'm a Hunger Games fanatic, which fortunately isn't true. I don't care how rich we are, I still have five slips in the reaping bowl and that means that there's still a chance I'll be reaped.

"We—you—really need to clean this up sometime, Blayke."

I shrug, because really, what does it matter? It's called my room for a reason. Only mine, and that means that I choose how much I clean it, or lack thereof.

"And also, could you _please_ try to wear something else to the reaping?"

"Nope," I respond, popping the _p_. "Come on, mom. It's just an outfit. Anyways, the book?" Mom always goes on a rant whenever she talks about my clothing preference, so I've learned to change the subject quickly so that she can't.

She sighs. "Fine, but next year—"

"We'll talk about next year next year, mom. Thanks for the book." Recognizing defeat, my mom closes the door to my room after a reminder that it's only two hours until the reaping.

I go back to finishing _Advanced Swordfighting Techniques _and then close the book once I'm finished. I don't actually have a sword that I can fight with, of course, just theory work. My mom and stepdad may be rich, but arming me with a real sword is one of those difficult situations that money can't fix. I've practiced with sticks that I've found outside—they're not real, of course, but it gives me a grasp of what it's like to fight with a real sword.

Hopefully, I won't have to use these skills at all.

I finish the book and pile it on top of a few other swordfighting books. I want to see Dina before the reaping starts, and I promised her that I'd be there in about five minutes. Which I'll likely not be at the town square by.

Hurriedly, I rush down the stairs and out the door. "Going to meet up with Dina, see you after the reaping!" I call down the hallway before opening the door. I don't run, because for some reason the Peacekeepers hate it when people run, but I walk quickly to the town square where the coffee shop we're meeting at is located. Already the Capitol and District Five seals are being hung on banners, and whoever prepares the district for this has already constructed a makeshift stage. I notice that the reaping bowls are still hidden away somewhere, though.

As I enter the shop, I check my watch. I'm a minute late, and I can see Dina waving to me from a booth at the back. I nod, walking over to that booth and sitting down across from her. "Sorry I'm late," I tell her. "I lost track of time when reading."

My girlfriend smiles mischievously. "What, busy reading _advanced theory _books that you won't even need?"

"It's not funny!" I grit, although she knows I'm not actually mad at her. "I could get reaped this year and the fact that I _prepared_ for the Hunger Games could be what saves my life!"

She laughs again. "Well. Anyways, drink your coffee. It'll get cold otherwise." Grudgingly, I take a sip. We've come here every year since I've was thirteen, and I'm sure the tradition will carry on for at least a few more years. I've jokingly said that coming here is good luck for the reaping, but then again I've never had to take out tesserae and Dina's only had to once. So, really, the odds _are_ in our favor.

"You ready for the reapings?"

I nod. "I'm really glad you're safe this year."

She takes a long sip before continuing. "There's still next year. You know, eighteen is the most common year to get reaped, according to both tribute data and common sense." Yes, of course it is. If we were only a year older than what we are now...

_But the arena is usually horrible during Quarter Quells, and there's the chance that the Gamemakers put in an extra twist. _

"Well, true," Dina remarks and I realize that I said what I was thin without realizing it. Strange, I almost never do that. "You've got a point there, but the Hunger Games are still the Hunger Games no matter what."

"What's this talk, anyways? How likely is it that one of us'll be reaped?" I wonder aloud, this time on purpose.

"You started it," Dina remarks, smiling. I jokingly roll my eyes. "C'mon, let's go outside to the reaping. It's about time."

* * *

**5F: Reyna Heliora (16)**

**Reaping**

I watch as the escort drags us through the Capitol video and speech. Finally, it's time for the reaping. I really hope it's nobody that I know, like Winnifred—even though she's annoying, I can't imagine life without my only friend.

"Our female tribute is..." the escort picks a slip out of the bowl and unfolds it. "Uh...hang on, ah there we go!" The slip was upside down, I assume. "Reyna Heliora!"

I'm in shock. Although it's not surprising, considering that I've had to take out tesserae before, but it's still very surprising. Swallowing, I start walking up to the stage.

"Hello, Reyna! I'll skip the questions, since we're running a tad late. Let's pick a boy to join you onstage!

"Blayke Edison!"

* * *

**5M: Blayke Edison (16)**

**Reaping, Post-Reaping**

The girl onstage looks incredibly poor. Skinny, tired, those small clues that show that someone's poor. I wouldn't have guessed she was a girl if I'd just seen her in the street; she's that underfed. And then I realize who's name she said afterwards.

Mine.

Well, thank goodness I've practiced.

I mount the stage, and the rest of the reaping—which isn't really much—flies by. Until the goodbyes. The possibly last time I get to see my friends and family.

Surprisingly, Dina's the first in. I've heard that usually family comes in first, although that might just be a lie. Probably.

There are tears pricking in the corners of her eyes. "Oh my god Blayke. How? You have to win, you have to. You've learned. I can't watch you die."

"You won't have to. I'll win, I promise. This is the reason I've been practicing, in case I was reaped. . Okay?"

She nods. "Okay."

My mom and stepdad are next. They wish me luck and we spend time together before they ask about my token. "Right here." It's a small metal ball, something I found one winter. After that, the Peacekeepers drag me away.

I still can't believe that I'm going into the Hunger Games.

* * *

**5F: Reyna Heliora (16)**

**Post-reaping**

"Reyna, are you okay?" my dad asks. Winnifred's already came and gushed over the Capitol fashions. "It's just—you seemed in shock. You can do it, though."

I sigh. My dad is really supportive, but he knows that I can't come out. The careers, one of _them_ will probably win. I'll be dead in a week, nothing more than a dot on a Gamemaker's screen. "Dad, please—"

My mom takes my hands in hers. "You _can_, Reyna. We believe in you. Get a few sponsors, and you'll ne able to do it. Just try. For us." Logan nods, a _please_ whispered.

"Okay. I'll try."

"And take this," my mom says, holding out a ring. My grandmother's. "As your token."

They have to leave, and I brace myself for a third visitor. I don't consider myself an optimist by any means, but I'm grateful that this is the last time I'll ever see him.

A man in a white uniform marches up. "Come with me, you have to board the train now." I nod, trying to contain my confusion. Isn't he—

Following the man, I barely notice the swarms of reporters crowding me, too wrapped up in the questions swirling through my head.

**Incredibly sorry about how late this chapter is, but the good part is that I'm satisfied with the results! I really enjoyed writing these two tributes, and the (unplanned) contrast of backgrounds was interesting. Reyna keeps talking about a 'him', and I'm sorry I couldn't write about this more clearly. You'll find out later.**

**I've been drafting the Capitol chapters and I've realised that I have no idea when certain tributes should be featured. I'm not sure if the form will work or not, but with the form below you can choose when you want certain tributes to be featured. Make sure to read through the descriptions, too, and if you're still confused just shoot me a PM!**

**Here it is (take out spaces and paragraph breaks)— h ****t t ****p s ****: / / docs . goo gle**

**.**

**c o**

**m**

**/ forms/ d/1COGF0lvB6l- PJNjKCbnsL6TtOa0XHjAUJ29qd2LUBg /**

**Sorry for the surplus of spaces; I had difficulty letting the link through. It'll be on my profile as well. Oh, and the blog completely slipped my mind too! Link to that on, surprise surprise, my profile!**

**Thanks to Lilah32 for Reyna and Pacceca for Blayke! Also, I forgot to credit the submitters for District Four, so Monroe belongs to xQueen-Of-Applesx and Drake belongs to dsalazz. Mini quiz: **

**1\. Is the bruise on Reyna's left or right cheek? **

**2\. Who do you think it is that Reyna keeps talking about? You can just put something like, abusive uncle, for example, and there's no right or wrong—just want to see your opinions. **

**3\. What is in the Town Square by the time Blayke goes? Choose all; 1 point for 1 correct answer and 2 points for all. **

**4\. What is Blayke's token?**

**See you guys (hopefully) soon with the D6 chapter!**


	7. District 6 reapings

**6F: Hope Eversand (16)**

**Pre-Reaping**

"That's all for today. Do you think you're ready?"

I ponder the question for a second. "I honestly don't know. I mean, I hope so. And there's always the chance that I escaped." I'm silent for a second. "Will you be mentoring this year?"

"Yes. But I'll be mentoring the boy. Don't worry, Hester's a good mentor, too."

I laugh. "You're making it sound like I'm definitely going to be reaped. Give me a chance, Blue."

"I just don't want you to be upset or anything if you are reaped. But yes, Hope, there's a chance you'll be safe."

I nod. "That'd be great." Blue's told me a thousand times about the life of a victor, how horrible it is living with survivor's guilt. I don't want to be like that. But I don't want to die, either.

Out of the two, I'd take the former.

"Do you want to practice more? I have to be in the town square by ten, but if you want to train…" Blue offers hesitantly.

I shrug. "Nah, 'm good. I've trained for a while, besides there's no guarantee that I'll be reaped. Thanks for all this, though."

"No problem," Blue responds. "I'm really glad I could help, and if you get reaped then at least Hester and I will have a new neighbor to look forwards to meeting."

I smile. "Here's to hoping that I don't, though. Well, I'd better get going home, my parents'll be waiting."

"Yeah. Goodbye, Hope. I'll see you after the reapings, then? In preparation for next year, or…" Blue trails off, hesitant to actually say what we both know he's going to say next.

"Yeah. See you then."

I hurry home, not wanting to annoy my parents by coming home later than they told me to. They're nice people—while they're not under stress from work, like three weeks ago, when the factory they were working at closed and they had to find new jobs—but they can get annoyed, and they did tell me to be home by nine. Of course, they're all for me learning weapons and martial arts skills, from a Victor no less, but their tolerance has its limits. Plus, if I want Fyr to be able to train under Blue as well, I have to prove to them that this is worth it.

I wish that District Six was a nicer place to live. Granted, I'm not a beauty-obsessed naïve baby—far from it, actually—but I wish I could live and die in a place that...won't be always blanketed with smog? I've heard that in places like Nine and Seven, the sky is so clear in some parts that you can actually see the stars. The only way that I'll ever get out of this hellhole is if I get transferred to a different district or become a tribute in the Hunger Games. Fyr and I have considered that with my pre-existent weapon skills and better-than-average strength, I _could_ become a Peacekeeper, but I'm pretty sure the people in Two are trying hard enough to become Peacekeepers without a dirt-poor District Six girl in their midst. Besides, the thought of willingly working for the Capitol by punishing District citizens cruelly is unthinkable. Which means that _then_ the only way of getting out is by way of the Hunger Games.

Well, I'm not volunteering (ever), and don't want to be reaped, so I'm practically damned to stay in Six for my whole life.

Fyr's outside, scuffling in the dirt with a few other boys on our street. He leaps up when he sees me. "Hope! You're home!" To the other boys, he excuses himself and runs up to me. "Mom says that I have to get ready once you got home. How was it?" Fyr wants to train with Blue as much as I want him to. I couldn't bear losing him. Only eleven years old, Fyr looks strangely a lot like me—with my tan skin, black-colored eyes, dark brown hair and what my mom calls _Asian_ descent.

"It was normal," I respond, because all I did was practice.

"Can you show me that spinning jump kick, Hope? Please?" he begs with wide puppy eyes.

I laugh. "Maybe after the reaping. Come on, inside." I walk inside and Fyr follows.

"Fyren Eversand, what on Panem has happened to you?" my mom growls. "Hope, I've got your stuff in your room. Fyr here needs to take a bath."

_I can see that, _I remark to myself as I walk to the curtained-off area that makes my room. I'm not dirty apart from my clothes, where Fyr touched me, so I skip the part of getting ready that wastes precious water and put the clothes laid out on. A white, blouselike shirt and soft brown pants make up my reaping outfit. In some places, this would be a casual outfit, but it's expensive for us. I have no use for fashion anyways, so it doesn't matter, not really.

After finishing, I fill a cup with water and sit at the table, waiting.

* * *

**6M: ****Tristan Whiplash (14)**

**Pre-Reaping **

I look around the flower shop, trying to decide what to buy. Gyris always loved carnations, especially the pink ones, and soon I find a few of them. Only one bouquet left. Thank goodness it's still here.

"These, please, ma'am," I say to the cashier as I give her a few coins. "You can keep the change. Thank you very much."

She smiles at me, probably wondering what I'm going to use the flowers for. "Are those for your mother?" she finally asks. I shake my head, and in response the florist says "Ah. Pink carnations symbolize gratitude, so..."

"I didn't know that," I reapond. "My sister—Gyris, her name—lived pink carnations. They're for her." Thankfully, the florist doesn't ask anything more. I don't want to bring up Gyris right now.

The graveyard is surprisingly empty, save for a few others. I guess people would rather be spending time with their living family than remembering their dead. Quotas are constantly on the rise in Six, so anyone with a production job has a maximum of three sick days, excluding reaping day. So today is one of the only days that people can come here.

I guess people don't care about honoring the dead anymore.

Soon, I come across her grave. Plain, simple. Mom and Dad could've put a monument up to honor her, but they wouldn't, and Gyris wouldn't want that, anyways. The inscription is simple, too, with just her name and date of birth/death—_Gyris Whiplash, 283ADD to 298ADD.  
_

I lay the carnations down, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. I've stopped counting how many times a day I miss her, how many times a day I wish she hadn't left me. But Gyris made her choice, and urged me to go on. Not to let them restrict me.

Death is easy, books always said. Living is harder.

Remembering, I pull the sheet of paper out of my pocket. I'm sure my parents would kill me (maybe even literally) if they ever saw this, but it's all I have left of her. Her note.

_Dearest Tristan, _

_If you are reading this, it means that I am no longer alive. Firstly, I want you to know how truly sorry I am that I'm leaving you alone. I just can't do this any longer. Tell Mom and Dad a lie, don't let them know that it was suicide. They wouldn't believe me, anyways.  
_

_You have to go on, Tristan. You've always been strong, and now you have to prove that to yourself. I know that you can do this, Tristan. Go on. And most importantly—don't let them control you. Break free, have your own small rebellion. You have to break free. _

_Your sister, _

_Gyris_

The tears are coming full on now. I try to stop them, but grief consumes me and I limply wipe my eyes. _Like she said, be strong._ Almost two years since it happened, and my parents don't even care anymore. It's sickening.

Speaking of my parents, they're probably expecting me back home. They don't even know where I've gone. Slowly, I get up, and start the walk back home. The graveyard sits between the poor and rich parts of Six, so it's not a long walk. If I'm lucky, they won't have any idea that I've left in the first place.

I open the door by a sliver, then quietly slip inside. Back up to my room, they won't know that I was anywhere at all…

"Tristan."

Oh.

"Yes, Father?" I ask, trying to sound innocent. I hope that they won't ask, but of course they will.

"Ah, Tristan. So nice of you to…join us," my mother says cooly. This is bad. The cool voice always leads up to a shouting match, and many consequences.

"Now, would you care to tell us where exactly you were?" She says it like a question, but I have to answer it. There is no option Swallowing, I tell them.

"Gyris' grave."

My father narrows his eyes. Tristan, what were you doing at the graveyard,exactly? Is what they seem to say. But I won't let him humilitate me. Break free, Gyris said? Yes, I'll do that. Instead of bowing my head, I hold it proudly. I did nothing wrong.

"Tristan, you are forbidden to leave home for the next two months except for going and coming to school. You stay in your room all of then, except times that we permit you to leave. I will make sure that Heaaster Regder and Sarla Coure know this." Morlen Regder, headmaster of the school. The most strict of the teachers. Sarla Coure. A kind person, but forced to follow Mother's "requests" if she continues to care for her family as much as she does now. "And if you complain, I won't hesitate to change that to four months."

Inwardly sighing in defeat, I nod. I don't have any friends at school to care about me, to wonder what's happened to Tristan. Most likely they'll realize for a moment that the rich couple's son doesn't show up anymore and not give t a single afterthought.

"Good. And Tristan, if we ever catch you going somewhere you're not supposed to again, especially the graveyard, we will hand out worse punishments. Alright?"

No, it's not alright, but I silently nod again.

"Now go get ready for the reaping."

* * *

**6F: Hope Eversand (16)**

**Reaping**

The escort, Angelica, walks onstage smiling and goes on for about ten minutes about how happy she is to be here. I'm fairly certain that the escorts are required to say that, because she doesn't seem very excited.

"Let's start with the boys!" Angelica finally announces. She walks in her six inch high heels (these Capitol people are ridiculous) to the male reaping bowl and puts her hand about halfway into the bowl. Unfolding the slip, she yells the name, "Tristan Whiplash!"

The boy that walks onstage has a blank expression on his face. I'm usually good at reading people, but not him. Still, he looks strong enough, and I decide if I'm going to be reaped, I'll ally with him. Plus, that'll give me the added advantage of having Blue as my mentor, kind of.

I'm so busy plotting my strategies that I don't realize that Angelica has pulled out the girls' reaping slip. "Hope Eversand!"

Thankfully, I've prepared myself for this occurrence, so I have essentially the same reaction as Tristan—almost nothing. I walk up calmly, not exactly confident but completely neutral.

"Well hello, dear. How are you?"

"Fine," I respond. It's a half-lie, because I'm not taken by shock or anything. But then again, who would be excited to go to the Hunger Games (apart from the Careers)?

"You don't seem surprised. Why, may I ask, if it's not too much trouble?"

Shrugging, I half-lie again. "I just always prepared myself for this to happen."

Angelica nods. "Ah, of course. Your tributes, District Six—Hope Eversand and Tristan Whiplash!"

* * *

**6M: Tristan Whiplash (14)**

**Goodbyes**

Quite honestly, I wouldn't be bothered if my parents didn't come at all. But that's not going to happen. They burst in, furious, not happy at the fact that they're losing their only remaining son.

"Tristan, you have to win. We can sponsor you, but you have to interest the Capitol audience because they're the ones that get the choice. Get allies, ditch them halfway through..." The tactics 'class' continues for almost the whole fifteen minutes, telling me multiple strategies.

"And Tristan...if you die..." my dad trails off. What's he going to do, dig up dirt on my "legacy"? My parents might care about that stuff, but it's not like I'll be alive to know or care about my legacy.

I nod quietly. "Yes, Father. I will win."

_Don't let them control you. _

I won't let them control me. If I win, I can shut them out of my life. If I die—it's the less favorable option, but at least I'll be free of them. Forever.

It's safe to say that the odds are in my favor.

* * *

**District Six, here we are! I have to say, I love both of these tributes so thanks Nautics (for Hope) and Jade-Warrior (for Tristan). They were really fun to write about! Feedback on both of them (and Blue, Tristan's mentor/Hope's 'trainer') would be appreciated, so remember to review! Also, I have a poll on my profile that I would appreciate a lot if you voted for. **

**I'm going to have a tribute checkin. Please PM me your tribute's weapon if choice. It doesn't have to be something they have experience with, but if they do it should be district-related. Answers will ONLY be accepted via PM. Do not review with the checkin.**

**Mini quiz: **

**1\. Hope's brother's full [first] name?**

**2\. What has Blue trained Hope in?**

**3\. Do you think Hope's plan to ally with Tristan will work? **

**4\. Who do you like better? Why?**

**Most likely, this will be the last chapter before 2020, so Happy Holidays! **


	8. Update

**Hey there guys,**

**I'm really sorry to say this. No, I'm not discontinuing this story. You might have noticed that I never update, and I've decided to explain what I'm going to start doing. **

**I'm not abandoning any story of mine, but I'm putting them on hold and writing all the chapters before updating. Because of this, I've finalized a list for placements...almost. I'd still like your guys' help. So, please PM me telling me placements you'd like from the characters I've introduced so far. I'll give you an example format (placements were randomly chosen): **

**1\. Drake: reason here**

**2\. Reyna: reason here**

**3\. Horizon: reason here**

**4\. Mithras: reason here**

**These won't be the final placements but I'll take the orders into consideration. Thanks for your understanding!**

**~Dragon**


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